


Sweet Thangs

by all-or-nothing-baby (BundleOfSoy)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And I'm struggling to tag!, Baker!Gabriel, But it is late, F/M, Fluff, Food, Friends to Lovers, I Don't Even Know, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Destiel&Sam/Ruby, SO MUCH FLUFF, So I'm blaming that, Soft!Meg, This might be my first AU fic?, insecure!Gabe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 02:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BundleOfSoy/pseuds/all-or-nothing-baby
Summary: As he got up, whole body stiff from laptop-stooping for way too long, Gabe's phone sounded.<< hey there, choir boy. you home? there's a b-movie slasher marathon on tonight and i can't find my dumb tv remote. can and will bring jagerGabe smiled wide, despite his aching body and addled mind. Then again, he was pretty sure Meg's smart and stupidly hot mouth was capable of making the last unicorn in magicland smile like a mythical idiot on its own goddamn deathbed.





	Sweet Thangs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Petrichora_Vellichor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrichora_Vellichor/gifts).

> I just boshed this out and I'm posting it unedited. And I'm so tired, I'm not even sorry.
> 
> I can be sorry tomorrow : D
> 
> 'Cause, Petra, when life gives you lemons, make Megriel fic, right?!

The world currently sucked huge amounts of ass. Hefty, sweaty, middle-aged trucker's ass.

Gabe's new bakery wasn't doing as well as it damn well should be, considering how freaking awesome_ Sweet Thangs _ and its sweets was. And how much time and effort Gabe was putting into his business. He loved the damn place, loved being a sweet pastry chef. Loved being his own boss. Hell, he even loved his staff, Dean and Cas—whose flirting was so obvious, he was pretty sure they we're going to end up married with a apartment-full of furry-friends more suited to a farmyard than a downtown one-bed, at some point in the probably not-so-far away future.

Staring at the figures on the screen and willing them to change just wasn't doing the trick. He had been sure he could work some mojo, but alas. Nothing he hypothetically tried cutting back on seemed to make a difference. Gabe's eyes now stung like a head-spinner doused in holy water. And he'd not eaten in long enough that the thought of Regan spitting pea soup vomit was just too much right now. Gabe _ had _ to go practice some self-care.

As he got up, whole body stiff from laptop-stooping for way too long, Gabe's phone sounded.

<< **hey there, choir boy. you home? there's a b-movie slasher marathon on tonight and i can't find my dumb tv remote. can and will bring jager**

Gabe smiled wide, despite his aching body and addled mind. Then again, he was pretty sure Meg's smart and stupidly hot mouth was capable of making the last unicorn in magicland smile like a mythical idiot on its own goddamn deathbed. 

Then he remembered he'd already agreed to hang with the gang tomorrow night. And what with tomorrow being Saturday and the bakery's busiest day of the week... he should _ really _ get an early one tonight. Shitsticks.

His thumbs hovered over his phone's keyboard, front teeth chewing on bottom lip.

Gabe typed out a reply.

**Hey there yourself, Ms Troublemaker No.1 (Pink has nothin on you, babe). Gotta do some mind-numbingly boring admin. Wanna help? Jk :D Seriously tho, leave the Jager at home but bring Chinese/Japanese/anything with noodles? That is if you're sure you want a fucktasticly exciting Friday night in with your friendly neighborhood Baker-boy?**

Man, he should really just tell her he's busy. Not that Gabe actually _ wanted _ to be left alone to be able to get on with his less-entertaining-than-watching-paint-dry work. But because why in Chuck Norris' name would the hottest thing on two legs be interested in a Friday night in with a baker's spreadsheets and fucking caffeinated drinks made with icky coffee-mate instead of boozy shots? Meg had only text in the first place because she was bored and couldn't change the channel and lived just around the corner so his place was just obviously just a convenient option and…

Gabe's thumb added _ and bring milk _ before hitting send **>>**

Because fuck it, he could be her friend. He'd been her friend for almost a year now, so what had changed? It didn't matter that he was so much more invested in their relationship than she was. Didn't matter that he was in love with her clever, delicious-looking mouth and her snark and her hidden softness that he wanted to hold onto tightly and yet gently and never, ever let go… because Meg wanted a friend. So, let there be friendship. And let his desires for more go wanting. She was worth the heartache.

His phone bleeped again.

**<< be there in 15 doofus**

Gabe's smile reappeared, brighter than an angel's halo.

Yeah, none of it mattered. He'd always be there for her, in whatever capacity she liked.

  


* * *

  


In the seventeen minutes it took until Meg pressed the buzzer to Gabe's loft apartment, he'd showered, shaved and shoved so much clutter into his hall closet it would barely close. Good thing Meg always kept her form-fitting leather jacket on her gorgeous form... till she was too hot. Then would sling it over the back of his retro sofa like she owned the whole damn building.

Gabe opened the door to the smell of noodles and Meg's addictive musky perfume. He clasped his hands together, Disney princess style. "My hero!"

Meg's eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets as she shoved passed him, dumping the wares in his arms. "Hail Satan, it's about to start!" Meg crooned, kicking off her spike-heeled boots and running to the sofa at the sounds of a promisingly gruesome announcement from the channels presenter.

As Gabe poured drinks and listened to Meg tell him all about the low-budget flick starting on the Horror channel, he watched her enthuse and finally ditch the leather jacket, with affectionate but guarded eyes.

Meg's sloppy, Black Sabbath tank and skinny ripped jeans were a juxtaposition to her spike-heels—and Gabe couldn't help but make the comparison between her public persona and her actual self.

Meg was _ his _ definition of the perfect candygirl: hard on the outside and soft in the centre.

And then Gabe realised she'd caught him staring.

"Need a hand there, sugar?"

God, his stomach was like the sky on Bonfire night when she called him things like that.

Without waiting for a reply, Meg was up off the couch and over at the kitchen island. She smiled at a dumb-struck Gabe before they walked over to the sofa together. Gabe shoveled in a mouthful of noodles on way-too-loaded chopsticks before grabbing his laptop and plopping down next to Meg, setting his food aside and opening his previous tabs.

"Nuh-uh, Baker-man. Food first, then work." she said around a whole wonton.

"Can't. Got waaaaay too much stuff to get through, gorgeous."

"Look, Gabriel, just eat. Then watch a little low-budget blood and gore. And _ then _I'll let you work. In fact, I'll even help. It's My Way or the Fight-Me Way, handsome, " Meg insisted, "so, what's it gonna be?"

Gabe hoped she couldn't hear the love-rockets exploding in his belly. She wanted to spend her Friday evening helping him with work shit? Had he been transported into his favourite sitcom? Because this development seemed way too good to be true.

"Oh, really? Think you could take me, huh, Goth Barbie?" he managed.

Meg's dark eyes grew big as the threat of a smile on her plump, plum lips. But she carefully placed the laptop on the table, moving Gabe's food aside, and, as grateful as he was for the concern, Gabe was almost disappointed the second option hadn't transpired.

And then Meg pounced like Catwoman at Batman's catnip-covered nipples.

She was on his lap, tickling him to within an inch of his life while he pleaded and promised he'd do anything she wanted, if only she would just stop this blatent attempt on his life.

Meg finally conceded. "Okay, alright. You eat, then I help you work, deal? Then no more assaulting you, I promise." And she put her hands behind her back in a show of goodwill.

"Deal."

Gabe should've known better.

She went straight for his stomach, hands like tasmanian devil's. Gabe instinctively grabbed her by the wrists to get her to stop—both loving and hating the tickling—laughing and spluttering and now pink-cheeked and breathless. When he looked up, Meg was trying to blow her hair from her face, struggling half-heartedly to break free from his grip where Gabe held her hands behind her back. The sight lit the biggest rocket of all inside of Gabe, and its trajectory was set straight for his heart.

"You know, you don't have to offer to help me with work stuff just to be able to come use my TV, Megasaurus. Like, I can get you a key cut so you can be here any time you lose your remote. Or your key. Or your standards." Gabe smirked and flicked his brows, hoping to hide the love that screamed silently in his throat.

The look in Meg eyes was one Gabe wasn't sure he'd seen before. And it made him uneasy. Had he said too much? Scared her off?

He released his grip on her.

"Ha!" Meg sprang, now grabbing Gabe's wrists in her own, tight grip. "Fooled you, sucker!" she exclaimed, triumphant.

"Ho, _ that _ is called cheating, Missy." Gabe's insides collapsed with relief.

"And? Did you really expect any less from a demoness? Anyways, I've got you where I want you now, big-boy." Meg said.

Gabe tried his very best not to turn that statement into an instant forever-fantasy.

"Alright, alright, I submit. Food then work, I promise."

But Meg held tight.

"Listen up, sugar. I ain't doing a French accent, but I shall say this only once…" Meg started, "actually, that's bull. As long as you _ never _ tell anyone, I'll say this as many times as you need to hear it, Gabriel."

Gabe's breath caught in his throat.

"I don't come over just to watch your TV or use your place as a crash-pad. I… I come over to hang with you. And because… I kinda like you, choirboy. Alright?"

Gabe watched an honest blush grow like pink roses over Meg's pale skin and inwardly swore he'd never seen anything as beautiful his whole life.

Fuck his fear of rejection.

"Too hell and back, Meg, you're the prettiest Sweet Thang I've ever known. Swear to the Gods of Pastry themselves..." Gabe admitted.

Meg laughed softly and leant into Gabe's space.

"Your a real dork, you know that right?"

Sweet, spicy-warm breath fanned Gabe's cheek, waving a Zippo flame close to the box of fireworks in his belly. He replied, slowly, his heart beating a rhythm quicker than a trickster's wit. "It has been said..." and Meg laughed again at the OTT sexiness in his purposely dumb answer.

"Good job I got a soft-spot for dorky Baker-boys then, huh?"

Gabe shook his head. "Am I awake? I swear, if I'm dreaming…"

"Let's see, shall we? Can you feel this?"

Then Meg closed the small distance between them, landing a feather-soft but very real kiss on Gabe's lips. She tasted of Singapore Chow Mein and lipgloss and sugar truffles—and absolutely_ everything _ Gabe had craved since he met her. Meg's grip on his wrists lessened and Gabe took the opportunity to bring his hands to her face and tilt her head gently. He deepened the kiss that had lit every Rocket, Catherine Wheel and Peony in the damn box, and she responded with the gift of her tongue, tasting and teasing. Meg's arms slid around his neck and Gabe moaned when she moaned and it was all so damn perfect it was nuts.

They broke for air and smiles and Gabe gushed with overwhelming affection.

"You're perfection, you know that? Shit, you taste like truffles, for fucks sakes. Who the hell tastes like truffles?! Man, you do _ not _ know how long I've wanted to do that. I can't—"

Meg quieted his rambling with another kiss, this one more heated; hot as Hell, in fact.

Gabe had to pull away first.

"You have _ gotta _ stop that or I'm gonna split the seam in my favorite pants, honeybun," he warned, not wanting to take things too far, too soon.

"Only if you promise never to call me _ sweet thang _ again, lover boy. I cannot believe you actually said that," Meg teased.

"Are you kidding me? That's my headcanon nickname for you! Except now, it seems it's just my... nickname for you?" Gabe thought out loud.

"What, so I'm named after your damn bakery? Smooth, Gabe, real smooth," Meg laughed.

"No, Brainiac. My bakery's named after you."

Meg opened her mouth, like she already had a retort on those sinful lips. Then closed it again as Gabe's words sunk in.

"You… you did?"

"Sure, why not?"

_ In for a penny… _

"Seemed the obvious thing to do, you know, seeing as I fell for you the minute Sam and Ruby introduced me to you." Gabe's words rumbled out faster than his cinnamon buns sold on a Monday morning.

Meg was seemingly speechless.

"Well, I never!" Gabe said, stunned. "Guess I win the bet that I would be able to shut you up some day..."

Meg finally spoke. "Guess you do, stud-muffin," she said and kissed him again. Then she scooched in close so they were smooshed together like the extra sushi Meg had snuck into Gabe's dinner order.

"Bakery puns? Colour me impressed, babe!" Gabe grinned, in awe of everything that had and was transpiring.

"Oh, I'm your full-cream dream, baby."

"Okay, that is so totally the name of the new cake I've been designing…" Gabe answered.

"You're obsessed." Meg's eye-roll couldn't hide her second blush of the evening though. Or her smile.

"Obsessed with Sweet Thangs? Hells yeah I am."

Meg didn't seem to care that they didn't see much of the B-movie marathon and Gabe couldn't care less thst most of the food was left uneaten. But they shared the spreadsheet workload, as Meg had promised, then made out on the sofa like Gabe didn't have to be up at four AM to get to the bakery and make a start on the fruit loaves…

A bad decision had _never_ been so worth it.

  


* * *

On Saturday night, Gabe and Meg showing up hand-in hand wasn't much of a surprise to anybody, least of all Sam and Ruby.

And Neither was Dean _ finally _ kissing Cas on the dancefloor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading : )
> 
> Come find me on Dumblr: @all-or-nothing-baby
> 
> Lucy <3


End file.
